


Helpless

by a_wordsmith_and_dreamer



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Gen, Parental Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 08:44:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12627279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_wordsmith_and_dreamer/pseuds/a_wordsmith_and_dreamer
Summary: Set between the two final scenes from HELPLESS (S3, E12).Trevor leaves Buffy and Giles with a seemingly insurmountable abyss of broken trust and guilt.





	Helpless

**Author's Note:**

> I LOVE Helpless (the episode I mean). Nonetheless there was something bothering me: I always wanted to know how Buffy and Giles rebuilt the bridges between them. His betrayal seems to have no lasting effect on their relationship - even in this episodes' last scene it all seems forgiven.  
> Since I couldn't found any fanfic dealing with this issue, I decided to write it myself.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.
> 
> PS: English isn't my native language, so please inform me about grammatical and spelling mistakes.

**Helpless**

"You have a father’s love for the child."

Trevor’s words echoed in Buffy’s head long after the door had swung shut behind him. Giles still haunched in front of her, ever so carefully cleaning the cut on her forehead. His eyes were fixed on his task – avoiding hers. He had weakened her, betrayed her and his betrayal had nearly ended in her mother’s and her own death. Buffy felt sick. For a moment she was imbued with an overwhelming desire to push him away, but her arms were too heavy to be moved.

As if becoming aware of her discomfort, Giles rose and left for his office. Instead of relaxing Buffy felt her heartbeat accelerating and her hands shaking as the mask of control finally slid from her face. Buffy trembled – torn between the urges to scream and curl up into a ball and weep all night long.

"Buffy!" Giles was back, voice and eyes filled with concern – shame momentarily forgotten. "Come, I’ll drive you home."

"No!"

There it was again. The shame and disgust for what he’d done. "Then let me call Corde…"

"No."

"Buffy, I can’t let you walk through Sunnydale in your condition. I understand you don’t want any help from…"

He didn’t understand. "I don’t want to go home", Buffy said under her breath. "My mom… I can’t… she’ll… can’t explain…"

Despite all efforts her view blurred. Hated tears ran down her scratched up cheeks. Through the watery veil she saw Giles in the doorframe to his office. Few days ago he might have hugged her. Or found words of comfort. Or… something. Now he stood frozen solid to the floor. Buffy buried her face in her hands – hoping to hide her tears from him. He’d never watched her cry – not like this.

He kept his distance until she recovered enough to look up. Then he kneeled in front of her, placing a plaster over the wound he’d cleaned earlier. Before he could leave again Buffy buried her face in his shoulder and flinched. The plaster granted no protection from pain inflicted by contact. She leaned in a second time – more careful this time. Giles tensed. Buffy half expected him to gently push her away, while hoping he might hug her. He did neither.

They maintained their position like statues – hiding all signs of their inner storms.

* * *

 

Giles parked in front of the Summers’ house. Buffy slept on the passenger seat, facing him. It’d taken her hours to fall to sleep and even longer until he was sure he wouldn’t wake her by moving her. His knees still ached from the seemingly never ending contact with the hard floor. The pale face next to him wore a fallacious expression of peace which nearly broke Giles’ defence walls.

Remembering the way she had looked at him when he had confessed his betrayal brought him on the edge of tearing up. Afraid her eyes could fly open and settle on him he covered his own. She would never look at him – or anyone – as before. That kind of pure, childlike, unswerving trust was gone, teared down by his actions. Whatever one might try this bonding could never be rebuild. It was an innocence he had robbed her of.

His knees protested when he got out of the car. As quiet as possible he opened the door to the passenger side, unbuckled the seat belt and scooped Buffy into his arms.

Joyce must have waited right behind the door. Mouth already open and filled with a thousand questions she froze, fearfully regarding the motionless Buffy in Giles’ arms. "What happened?"

Where to start?

"She’s just sleeping. I – I didn’t want to wake her. Where…?"

"Upstairs." Joyce stepped aside and after closing the door behind him led the way to Buffy’s room. Giles nearly stumbled on the narrow staircase and than again while putting down Buffy onto her bed. It had been an extremely exhausting day. And yet there was still one thing to take care of. Joyce wouldn’t rest until someone granted her an explanation and he wouldn’t dump said explaning on Buffy. Watching Joyce adjusting the blankets around Buffy, he mentally prepared himself.

Back downstairs Joyce was first to speak. "What happened today? Buffy – she mentioned her strength failed. How’s that possible? I don’t…"

"It’s my fault." He struggled with every single word following. "I’m responsible. I injected Buffy with muscle relaxing –"

Slap.

His head flew around by the force of a mother's rage. He closed his eyes for a moment. He had been waiting for this all evening, actually expecting Buffy to execute it. Maybe when she got her strength back…

"You poisoned my daughter?!" Joyce's trembleing voice was dangerously low.

"I – yes."

"Why?"

"It was a test. Whenever a slayer turns eighteen she’s robbed her strength and caged with a vampi–"

Slap.

"A test? We nearly died there! She trusted you and you… Out! You won’t see my daughter ever again! If you ever try to contact her, I’ll –"

"Mom."

Buffy stood halfway up the stairs. Neither of them had heard her approach. She looked so tired Giles wondered how she managed to stand. "It’s okay, mom."

"No, Buffy, it’s not! He had a duty of care as a teacher and your… watcher and he –"

"Mom –"

"She’s right, Buffy." He was a portrait of misery, unable to look either woman in the eyes. "I should go."

"Giles –"

"You heard Trevor. They’ll send someone else."

"But –"

"Wait! Who’s sending whom? Would one of you tell me what’s going on?"

"The council will soon send a new watcher for Buffy and Faith. I got fired."

"Good. Some responsibility can’t hurt."

"No, mom, you don’t understand. They were the ones... He got fired for… – Trevor was right, wasn’t he?"

Giles hesitated, head down. Joyce looked from one to the other, unsuccessfully trying to follow. Buffy’s eyes rested on the little she saw of Giles’ face. Nonetheless she nearly missed the nod.

He headed for the door, but Buffy reached it first, blocking his way. There it was: The look that tried to trust. He’d been wrong. He hadn’t robbed her of that innocence, he’d just shattered it to pieces their sharp edges cutting them both painfully. Again, Giles closed his eyes. He wanted to run, run as fast and as far away from her as possible, knowing that look would haunt him wherever he’d flee. "Buffy, please –"

"Don’t leave me."

The words were barely audible and yet they struck Giles harder than any slayer-strengthened fist. Finally the walls cracked. Suddenly he was holding her as if both their lives depended on it. She trembled nearly as much as he did, causing him press her even tighter to his chest. He planted a dying kiss on the top of her head, before resting his cheek there.

His throat was swollen with a thousand words and million things to say. In silence he hold her, finally released tears running down his cheeks and disappearing in her hair while hers wet his shirt.

* * *

 

Neither of them remembered who they landed on the coach with Joyce serving cookies and hot chocolate in the middle of the night. Together they explained the events of the past days, taking over whenever the other wasn’t able to bring oneself to say a certain detail.

Slowly an unspoken hope emerged, only stated in hidden side glances whenever the other one looked the other way. Maybe, just maybe, they were able to move on.


End file.
